17th July 2012

leftovers

(forgot to note the day) june, 2012

i’ve a hunger

to ink the phrase, or something akin,

across the hill-bone of my cheek skin,

“i fucked

and was fucked

across the many surfaces of a vacant, otherwise soundless, bar!”

this happened while the sun poked holes in the other hemisphere.

but the world begs for subtler declarations.

so i settle for crusted cum

gumming the public flesh of my black shirt;

messy, messy,

little white kisses,

pretending they’re leftover fingerprints

from powdered-doughnut thieves. 

i wonder to the still houses, afterhours,

as sinister expressions and i bicycle back,

“will he clean the bar top?

or will our ghosts become his private joke,

while others release different stresses

atop its surface?”

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